Darling Ladybug
by NemiWrites
Summary: (Regency Love) Catherine Vale turns her world on its head when she refuses to marry Mr Graham. This decision not only breaks Graham's heart and brings great shame to her family, it also complicates her relationship with his best friend Lord Sutton, who harbours strong feelings for her. Something unexplored draws them to each other until their paths collide again and again.
1. Chapter 1

She was struck by an overwhelming sense of deja-vu as she felt a cold shiver slither down her spine despite the warm autumn sun filtering in through the window. She steeled herself for what must follow.

"I am deeply sorry, Mr Graham. I cannot accept your proposal."

The young soldier stared up at her from where he knelt on her floor. His warm eyes had widened in shock and he looked dazed as though she had struck him. Catherine could no longer bear to look at him and turns her face toward the window, blindly staring at the world outside. "I… Understand. I apologize. I… I should go." She heard the rustle of fabric as he got up and hurried towards the door.

"Mr Graham." She saw him freeze at her call. She hesitated. He deserved an explanation, but she didn't know what she could say to make this better. "I didn't refuse you because of your position." She took a deep breath and tried to at least look at him. As soon as her gaze brushed his boots her courage failed her and she returned to the window, gripping her hands in front of her. "I feel the strongest possible friendship towards you, but I cannot love you the way you deserve."

There was more she wanted to say, but her usual eloquence failed her. He seemed to gather his breath for a reply but simply exhaled deeply and left. Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Closing her eyes now would undo her.

Soon after she heard her mother enter the room. "Oh, Catherine. What did you do?"


	2. Chapter 2

To be quite candid, Catherine was surprised it took this long for the people of Darlington to sniff out the full details of her private affairs. The way the news spread through the town was impossible to retrace, but she suspected that Mr Hammond might have been at fault. She did not believe that Mr Graham would discuss their conversation in public and among his friends Hammond was the most likely to accidentally let something slip. Lord Sutton had no love for her, but would have ensured that Mr Graham be spared the embarrassment and Colonel Watson was too dear a friend of her mother. He would never share such damaging information.

For three pleasant days she had been pretending that she hadn't shattered her calm, pleasant world with her foolishness. She worked on her embroidery project, helped Bessy with the food and went into town to pick up her mother's order at the haberdashery. Nobody had mentioned anything at that time and their faces were filled with anticipation rather than derision. Catherine just smiled and pretended she had no idea why everybody looked so anxious.

All that was changed when she next walked into town two days later. As soon as she entered the fountain square people were whispering behind their hands and Mr Simon treated her rather rudely during her purchase at the bakery, shoving the bread loaves into her arms before sneering and turning away. Escaping the bakery she tried to hide how much this interaction had shaken her, but wherever she turned she saw people glare and turn up their noses at her. Catherine swallowed down her hurt as best she could, keeping her head held high and walking swiftly towards her path home. How dare they judge her? They had known her all her life! She had anticipated their disapproval but she did not deserve this kind of treatment.

She fled the town, the snide comments nipping at her back and tears pricking at her eyes.

At home Catherine handed over her purchases to Bessy before heavily sitting down at her pianoforte. She needed the mindless exercise of practicing scales, maybe play through her repertoire. She needed to not think about Mr Graham's brown eyes and the love shining in them turning into shock and hurt. She slammed her elbows down on the keys, dropping her face into her hands. This would blow over. Someday.

"Miss Catherine?", Bessy called hesitantly from where she had barely opened the door. "Miss Earlwood is here to see you. Do you wish me to inform her that you are unwell?"

She considered it for a moment. She needed space, time to collect herself. Mary would understand. No, what was she thinking! Turning visitors away would make her seem guilty. She had done nothing wrong and it would not do to appear cowed. If she ever wished to shake this scandal she needed to show that there was no scandal to shake. Just like Mother had done when Christopher left.

"No, it is quite alright. Just show her in." Catherine quickly dabbed at her eyes with her finely embroidered sleeve and moved to stand by her favourite chair, nervously smoothing her dress. For a moment she felt a pang of fear; Mary might have come to inform her of the end of their friendship.

"Catherine, it is so good to see you! I was worried you might not be well enough to receive visitors.", Mary quickly walked over to her, picking up her best friends hands and giving them a light squeeze.

As soon as she heard her speak Catherine knew that she had done Mary a great disservice by doubting her, but she couldn't help but be surprised at the genuine emotion in the older woman's voice. Even after so many years of friendship, she still feared that one day Mary would decide that she would rather not be associated with the Vale women. However now she knew that even after she managed to add a ruined reputation to her long list of social shortcomings, Mary Earlwood was and would always be her best friend.

"Hello, Mary. How are you?" her voice came out as a choked half-whisper, tears again pricking at her eyes.

"Oh Cathy, you must tell me what happened. People are talking so very cruelly about you."

Sighing, Catherine dropped into her chair and motioned for Mary to sit as well. After taking another deep breath she began to explain the sorry story of how she managed to break a man's heart, greatly distress her mother, taint her reputation and ruin possibly every future prospect in the span of a single conversation.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't even really know how to begin." Catherine's gaze shifted from her best friend's face to the window as she folded her hands in her lap, fingers tightening around each other almost painfully. "Take all the time you need, Cathy. I am here to listen." Mary reached for her again, gently patting her clenched fingers.

"On Tuesday I returned home to find Mr Graham sitting in here with my mother, which I found rather curious. The last time he joined us Mother embarrassed herself and me by interrogating him about his relations and his inheritance and Mr Graham left in a hurry. Therefore I was surprised to see them chatting so calmly. Then Mother left the room and we were alone. That is when he got down on one knee and declared his feelings, asking me to marry him." After she hurried through her recounting of the event, she took another deep breath, her mind against her will transporting her back to that moment.

"I think I could have married him, had he not expressed his affection quite so ardently. But as he spoke I realized that I could not marry him. I did not feel the same way." Her faraway gaze focused again on Mary's face.

"I remembered all the times I told him how important it was to follow the heart, that happiness takes precedence over heritage or social standing and I suddenly felt like a coward. I was ready to marry this brave man because I was worried about my reputation. I would have barred him from a lifetime of love for my selfish reasons."

"But do you not think that affection could have grown over the years?"

"And what if it never came? If we started to resent each other? There are men that wouldn't mind a marriage of convenience too much but I don't believe that Mr Graham is one of them."  
She sighs and looks to the floor, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"He is such a dear friend. He deserves to be happy with a woman who loves him as much as he loves her."

There is another reason she refused James Graham on that day, but she did not know how to put it into words. I felt inconsequential and yet it constantly clawed at her. She remembers her face tingling under the scrutiny of intense hazel eyes across a dancing line. She was pulled out of her thoughts as Mary spoke up again.

"But don't you deserve happiness as well?"

She considered the question for a moment before looking out the window again. "What are people saying about me?"

"Please don't ask me to repeat it. I can hardly bear to hear it when I walk through town. I do not wish to burden you with the details." Mary sounded as distressed as Catherine felt. The younger woman felt her eyes starting to water again, her vision blurring. Regardless she forged on.

"Is my virtue being called into question?"

"No, of course not."

"However?"

"They are questioning your character. Mrs Norris is telling everybody that you encouraged Mr Graham to get at his inheritance and that you dropped him when he refused to accept and leave the regiment. It is well known that you were in his confidence and it does not help that he spoke so highly of you in public."

Catherine felt her fingers tightening again, this time in anger. "Thank you for telling me.", her voice shook with emotion.

"Of course I told Mrs Norris that she should not spread such vile lies, but you know that woman. Once she finds a scandal to latch unto she won't leave it alone until the next one comes along. What are you going to do?", Mary asked.

She had already considered that question. "Nothing. I will continue to act as I always have. Sooner or later the regiment will leave, the rumour mill will turn on somebody else and we will all look back at this bit of unpleasantness and laugh." Her voice didn't manage to convey the same confidence as her words. There was the very real possibility that she had managed to ruin her entire life with her rash actions. Mr Graham might forgive her one day, but the people of Darlington would never let her forget.

"Oh Cathy, I am so sorry."

"As am I. Mary I don't know how to thank you. Your friendship is such a balm in these trying times."

Mary Earlwood just smiled and nodded. "Of course. I will always be here for you. So, does this mean you will come to dinner tomorrow? Papa has arranged to have pineapples served again and I have been thinking of asking Cook to carve them in this new shape."

Catherine relaxed at the promise of lighter conversation and smiled.

They spent the next hour talking about the upcoming social events, Catherine's spirits lifting with every minute.


	4. Chapter 4

She had not anticipated her plan to be quite this exhausting. After a week of snide remarks and barely concealed insults from her acquaintances in town and her mother's occasional bouts of crying, Catherine had reached the end of her rope. To add to her burden, Mr Ashcroft had written her to inform her that she was no longer welcome at Thornleigh and had expressly forbidden her from contacting Ellie. She supposed she could understand his position. Of course the wealthy Ashcroft family would not want to associate with an allegedly predatory individual like her. However empathy did not stop her from burning his letter and thinking several unkind thoughts about the eldest Ashcroft.

Despite these oppositions Catherine was nothing if not stubborn. She continued to travel into town and dine with the Worthingtons and Earlwoods, the only two families still willing to invite her.

She was just returning from a trip to town where she had bought some new fabrics. She wanted to refresh one of her old dresses for the upcoming ball at the assembly rooms and was just thinking of how to go about it, when she became aware of somebody else walking in the opposite direction. She inhaled sharply as she recognized Lord Sutton, dressed impeccably as always. As he drew closer, Catherine felt an odd sensation in her stomach and briefly considered bolting. He looked none too pleased to see her either. They stopped at the same time, briefly seizing each other up where they were standing on the well-trodden path. The leaves overhead were quietly rustling in the breeze, casting odd shadows on the ground and on their figures.

"Miss Vale."

"Lord Sutton."

She was prepared to walk on, when he asked: "Will you not inquire after Mr. Graham?"

"No."

"Good. Because you have no right, after the distress you caused him."

She swallowed her retort and simply nodded, her eyes still fixed on the ground. When she started walking once more he said: "I must admit, I am almost impressed with your audacity. I warned you against causing him any pain."

"I believe I already told you, Lord Sutton, that my friendship with Mr Graham is none of your business."

In response he merely scoffed. "I make it my business when you have toyed with a good man for your own material gain." At his words Catherine felt all the frustrations of the last week spilling over and she spun around, pointing a finger at his chest.

"I am sick and tired of everybody prying into my affairs and then judging me for something I did not do! I did not reject Mr Graham because he wasn't rich. How foolish would I have to be to do so? Even an army man is better than the insecurity of my current position. I rejected his proposal because I did not love him as much as he loved me! I told him as much! I wished to spare such a tender-hearted man a lifetime of regret. I am quite aware that I have caused him great distress, believe me, but what I did I did to spare him even more pain in the future. He might be unhappy now, but he will soon find a woman who loves him as ardently as he loves her. I am not… I could not be that person."

She quite suddenly ran out of steam. For a moment all was quiet, her own harsh breathing seemingly the only sound in the world. She was so exhausted. Lord Sutton looked taken aback by her outburst, his usually smug expression replaced by one of utter surprise. Suddenly she felt ashamed.

"I am sorry, that was rather unseemly." The words were out before she could stop them, her genteel upbringing taking over, as she dropped her gaze to the floor. However when after a lengthy silence she looked up again to meet his gaze, she felt her temper flare once more at the memory of all his previous insults.

"Oh, what do I care for your good opinion anyway, you have despised me since the moment we were introduced! I always tried to show you the same consideration I would show any other acquaintance but I am tired of bearing your endless abuse. You have been nothing but arrogant, upsetting, uncouth and hurtful. Oh I remember how you threatened me. Do your worst, Sutton. I am beyond caring at this point! You must be so thrilled to have your suspicions confirmed!" She turned around and was prepared to storm off when she suddenly felt him grab her, his gloved hand easily circling her slender arm. She spun around to face him and was prepared to demand that he let her go, when she noticed the look in his eyes. Intense was too mild a word for his expression, his eyes were blazing with a torrent of emotions she couldn't even begin to untangle. She tugged at his hand, trying to escape his grip, but his fingers only tightened, his eyes darkening further. She recalled a conversation with Mr Graham about the Lord Sutton's impressive temper and for a heart-stopping moment she was afraid of what he might do.

He must have seen the fear sweep over her features as his expression shifted back into one of surprise and then disgust. He dropped her arm as though it burned him, leaving her to waste no time gathering her skirt and run towards home.


	5. Chapter 5

After the excitement of the previous day, Catherine was happy to stay at home and help with the household. As a child she had always complained about the amount of chores her mother made her perform, envious of the Earlwoods and their servants. Mary never had to help with the food or tend to the vegetable garden. However over the years she had come to accept her lot and found solace in her tasks. Well, some of them at least. She had been quietly working in the small garden adjacent to their cottage for a while now, preparing it for the coming frosts. Damp earth was clinging to her gloves and she was quietly humming a tune she had been studying this week while she enjoyed the warm rays of the morning sun. Her mother was out, visiting Mrs Worthington and no doubt complaining about her foolish daughter.

She looked up from her work when she felt a warm, fuzzy body pressing against her hip. "Good morning, my lord. I trust you have been well?" Lord Fat Cat gave a melodious meow, rubbing his head against her elbow. She was tempted to pet him, but knew he would not appreciate it too much with the earth still on her hands . "Is there something I can do for you?" "Meow." "I see. Well, Bessy has been a little out of sort today. Let me just check in the kitchen. I'll bring the scraps outside."

Barely two minutes later Catherine was sitting on the front step of her home, watching Lord Fat Cat daintily eating the last remains of yesterday's duck. He was such a peculiar cat. The young woman looked up in surprise when she heard footsteps approaching. She had to shield her eyes against the sun as she peered down the road. Who could be visiting her at this hour? She scrambled upright as soon as she identified the figure as Lord Sutton. What on Earth could he be doing here? She quickly patted down her dress, hoping he had not noticed her yet. It would not do to have a guest see her like this, sitting on her front step, her skirts getting dusty. As he stopped in front of her, Catherine gave up on her dress, already feeling exhausted. She could not deal with him today.

Lord Sutton was staring at a point between her eyes, scarred eyebrow raised slightly. When she tentatively reached up to check what had drawn his gaze, she felt some damp earth smeared across her forehead. Flushing, she quickly wiped it off. Lord Sutton seemed to barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes at her and she glared at him in irritation. Yes, she had to work in her garden. Yes, she was not dressed as impeccably as he was. Yes, she had dirt on her face. No need to rub it in. He didn't seem in a hurry to speak so she undertook the task of beginning the conversation.

"Lord Sutton. What a surprise. Would you like to come in?" Well so far so good. She had not yet said something rude or potentially enraging again. When he looked slightly dubious however, she felt her irritation rise. "Despite what you might think right now, we do own chairs for our guests to sit down on." She believed she saw one corner of his lips twitch in amusement, but it might have been a trick of the light, as his expression was growing more troubled by the second.

"That will not be necessary. I wish to say a few words to you, Miss Vale. I will not take up much of your time.", he answered, his voice sounding most peculiar. It was only then that she noticed that Lord Sutton looked even more uncomfortable in her presence than usual. He had his arms tightly crossed and seemed to clench and unclench his jaw every few seconds. How curious. Might he be here to apologize for scaring her yesterday? Somehow Catherine didn't believe that. Still she was curious and chose to remain silent.

After he seemed to briefly search for words, he began to speak. "Miss Vale, I know not how else to say this, but I must express myself nonetheless. Our meeting yesterday has forced me to consider my behaviour towards you over the course of our acquaintance. I feel that you deserve an explanation." Sutton seemed to wrestle with himself, surprising her. She had never seen the young Lord in such a state.

"I harbour strong feelings for you, Miss Vale. Feelings that are preposterous and utterly unwelcome. But I cannot deny them any longer. I must inform you of this. I have deceived myself for long enough." Catherine felt herself gripping for the door frame, trying to keep her head from spinning. Lord Sutton was beginning to pace before her, almost hunching over his crossed arms. "I will not apologise for my feelings or my behaviour, but I am sorry if you have been hurt in any way. I simply wished to prevent the easy familiarity you seem to adopt with everybody else in your acquaintance. I did not think that you would take my words to heart, which you clearly have." He came to a sudden stop and turned around again, his gaze fixing her in place. "I trust that you will have the discretion to keep this to yourself. Mr Graham can never know." He paused and looked at her, only continuing after she gave him a weak nod.

"That is all I have come to say. I suppose I will see you at the ball tomorrow. Good day, Miss Vale."

She was almost too shocked to react to this revelation, but a headbutt from Lord Fat Cat forced her out of her stupor.

"Wait! You can't just tell me that and then leave! Do you have no sense of responsibility or even common decency?"

He seemed to become even more uncomfortable, starting to fidget. "I have enough decency to inform you of the situation. That is all you will receive from me. I have long since resolved to keep my distance from you."

She knew that she would not be able to ask him all the questions she wanted, so she settled for the most important one: "Why?"

"You might not be willing to marry Mr Graham, but he loves you and I would never betray my best friend in such a manner."

"Aren't you even going to ask me how I feel?"

"No, I won't. It doesn't matter. Besides, you made your opinion of me perfectly clear."

The fact that Lord Sutton sounded genuinely hurt, stunned her back into silence long enough for him to leave.

When her mother returned from visiting Castoridge Court, Catherine was still sitting on her front step, being watched over by Lord Fat Cat and trying to wrap her mind around what she had just learned.


	6. Chapter 6

Fanning herself, Catherine hid a yawn behind the fluttering object. A sleepless night and a day of mechanically going through the motions had left her ill-prepared for the evening's ball at Darlington's assembly rooms. Held by Colonel Watson to bid goodbye to the town it was supposed to be a last chance for his friends in the populace to enjoy time with the soldiers of the 16th regiment of foot that they had grown to hold so dear.

When Colonel Watson had discussed the idea with Catherine and her mother at one of his dinners it had seemed like a jolly good time. Now however, Catherine was rather wishing she didn't have to be here at all. The glittering lights felt too hot and bright and not even her fan could bring her any comfort.

She supposed that it could have been worse. So far she had been left alone to stand near the wall, occasionally chatting with Mary when her friend wasn't being swept away by a soldier or Mr. Ashcroft. Catherine supposed that it was just as well that she was being ignored by everybody. It gave her a rare chance to stand still and observe her acquaintances and friends without having to entertain at the same time.

Catherine was quietly pondering if Mr Ashcroft might soon ask Mary to marry him, when a small gathering at the doorway made her aware of a new arrival.

Oh. Damnation.

At the door, already being greeted by Colonel Watson was Mr Graham, Lord Sutton trailing close behind. She forced herself to blot out his dark companion and focused on Mr Graham. He looked well, she supposed. Still as handsome as ever and his smiles betrayed no falsity. James must have felt her eyes on him as he looked in her direction briefly before blinking, almost as if in surprise, and returning to his conversation partner.

Watching Mr Graham move around the room, animatedly speaking to his friends and occasionally covertly glancing in her direction, she felt deeply unsettled. She missed him, there was so much left unsaid. She would never see him again after this and he seemed unwilling to approach her. What a sad end to their friendship. It was quite unacceptable.

When he came into her direction to speak to Miss Brown, Catherine steeled herself. She wasn't entirely sure what the protocol for interactions between almost-fiancés was, but when had that ever stopped her. She wanted to show him that he was still welcome in her company, that he was still her friend. She was barely aware how they came to stand in front of each other, but when she made to speak she and Graham interrupted each other.

"I -"

"How -"

Catherine let slip a small awkward giggle and for some reason that seemed to put Graham at ease.

"Miss Vale. Might I ask for this dance?"

"Of course, Mister Graham."

As they were moving around the dance floor, they seemed both painfully aware of the eyes following them.

Mr Graham was the first to break the comfortable silence.

"Miss Vale, I wanted to apologize."

"Whatever for?"

"I have heard how badly you have been treated because of my proposal and I wanted to apologize. If I had known…"

She couldn't help the small chuckle at this admission.

"What?"

"Mr Graham, you are by far the kindest man I know."

Mr Graham looked at her in surprise, before his expression softened. Somehow much more than those few words had been said between them.


	7. Chapter 7

After their dance, Mr Graham led an exhausted Catherine to one of the comfortable chairs by the wall, where she gladly took a seat, fanning herself. Between the heat of the room and the exertion of the dance she was feeling in need of refreshment. She had just caught her breath when she saw Lord Sutton approach them. Immediately she felt a strange weight settle about her shoulders.

"Ah, Sutton, there you are!" Graham seemed to ignore that the young lord didn't even deign to look at her when he greeted her with the smallest allowable amount of courtesy. Maybe all three of them had gotten too used to Sutton's improper behaviour where she was concerned.

"Colonel Watson is looking for you."

His voice caused her mind to skip a beat, a strange flash of lightning racing along her nerves. Battling down the thoughts that had haunted her all night and were now trying to take over her mind once more she tried to ignore him as much as possible. A feat she mainly accomplished by increasing the speed of her fan and fixing her gaze somewhere above Mr Graham's shoulder.  
"Ah, of course, I'll go to him right away. Miss Vale, may I pencil myself in for another dance later?" When James turned to her with his usual charming smile, she swallowed the sarcastic retort she thought of first, wondering where it had even come from.

"Of course, my card is rather empty."

"What about you, Sutton? Aren't you going to ask Miss Vale for a dance?"

Lord Sutton, who had been facing away from their conversation, watching out over the dance floor, seemed to start.

"Why in the world would I do that?" A small beat passed before he seemed to catch himself. "No, I'd rather not.", he finished rather lamely. She was used to greater wit from Sutton when he was insulting her. It appeared that she was not the only one who was a little out of sorts today.

"Sutton! Miss Vale is quite a fair dancer."

"If by fair you mean that she will only step on my feet twice on any given dance, then yes, I suppose she is competent enough."

"Sutton!"

"It is quite alright, Mr Graham.", Catherine sighed as the young soldier leapt to her defence.

 _He told me he loved me._ She tried to shove that thought back into the box she had locked it into.

"If you say so Miss Vale."

 _He loves me since the moment he met me._ She was quite ready to slap either herself or him with her fan.

"Well, if you are quite finished, Colonel Watson is awaiting us in the hallway."

After the men had left, Catherine snapped her fan shut in irritation and stood up to look for refreshments.

As the first guests began to leave, Catherine decided that a spot of fresh air and quiet would ease her mounting irritation. She covertly moved towards one of her favourite spots in the assembly halls, a secluded nook near one of the less-used entrances.

And of course it was already occupied. Her embarrassed surprise quickly flared again into angry irritation

"What are you doing here?", she hissed, glaring at the offending body. She was less offended at the fact that Lord Sutton had snatched up her favourite hiding spot and more at the fact that she couldn't seem to bring herself to move away.

He didn't seem inclined to move from where he was almost entirely hidden in shadow and seemed unwilling to speak with her. Just as well. What could they say?

"I shall leave you to it then." She sighed deeply and prepared to re-enter the fray, as her muscles started to obey her once more. She was already almost turned away, when his voice cut through the tense quiet.

"I must say, you have been looking worse than usual today."

"Oh spare me the…"

He just kept on speaking as though she hadn't interrupted him.

"A simple scandal should hardly be enough reason for a lady to look dour all the time. I thought you were well-versed in bearing the abuse of privileged gentlemen, the abuse of the common rabble living here should be easy enough to handle." Was this Lord Sutton's version of being supportive? If so then she'd rather wish he could manage it without simultaneously insulting her fellow townspeople and the two hours she invested into preparing herself for this evening. She'd like to see him deal with petticoats and muslin. Of course his dresses would all be a dark blue, a colour he seemed to favour…

She was torn out of her musings rather suddenly as she felt a hand settle on her smiling cheek, warm gloved fingers lightly resting on her skin. "There it is."

Like a deer when faced with a threat she was caught staring into his eyes, barely visible in the low light, unable to move once more. Her mind was perfectly blank and at the same time shrieking at her in a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother. Time resumed rather abruptly when they suddenly heard a dog bark and a cat shriek. Apparently Lord Fat Cat wished to visit the ball and the guard dog took offence at his late arrival.

Lord Sutton seemed to return to himself all at once as though waking from a dream. Without a word he moved past her and she just caught his expression of displeasure and what might have been an embarrassed or angry flush on his face as he quickly disappeared.

And so Catherine was once more left speechless in the wake of Lord Sutton, wondering just what on Earth had possessed him to act so… unreasonable.

Only on her way home did she realize that this might have been the last time she would see Lord Sutton. And what a strange encounter it was. She prefered not to think too much about it in fear of becoming slightly unhinged.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thank you for your kind reviews. Happy New Years!**

 _Wind picking at her dress, walking on the hillside. Through a towering door that parts like a curtain. Stretching out before her a mosaic floor of shifting vines and birds diving into the ground and back out. A soft noise under the feet. Red Silk. She takes off her shoes as not to dirty it and is surprised to find her toes bare. She walks towards the end of the hall._

 _He reclines on a stone couch, like an emperor on his ancient tomb. A wreath of ivy almost covering golden eyes looking straight at her and through. He beckons._

" _Tell me your secrets."_

 _She stands before him and feels lost, like she should remember this conversation._

" _I don't have any.", she finally says. He sits and then suddenly he stands before her, warm fingers covering her cheeks and their tips tangling in the loose strands behind her ear._

 _He smiles, a wicked expression hiding all the secrets she didn't have._

" _How dreadfully boring."_

Catherine started awake at the sound of their rooster crowing in the yard. She forced herself to sit up while rubbing the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes. This was the tenth time she had dreamed of this infuriating man in as many days! She dropped her head unto her knees. "This is getting ridiculous."

She needed to talk to somebody about this, maybe it would exorcise these nightmares haunting her. Pressing her eyes into her knees until she see stars, she thought through the options. Mother wasn't even a remote possibility. Mary and Phoebe would keep her secret. She would have liked nothing more than to sit with them in Mary's drawing room and discuss the situation until she had tidily decided on what it meant and what she wished to do about it. However she was reluctant. They… wouldn't understand. Well, maybe they would, but she didn't feel like she should… like she wanted to share this, her one secret. She wanted to keep it to herself, guarding it in her chest like a warm treasure. Catherine sighed into her knees. That left her oldest friend, her journal.

After she struggled out of bed Catherine sat down at her desk eager to begin now that she had decided on what to do. First she had to rifle through the drawers, it had been a while since she had last recorded her thoughts. Finally she felt something rectangular and heavy under a stack of sheet music. Gently she extracted the small book with the embossed front from it's dusty prison and brushed over its cover. She had a separate, more used journal where she recorded her notes for her projects, but this one was special. It was in here that she had recorded her grief after her father died and where she had first written down her thoughts on one Mr James Graham, lieutenant in Colonel Watson's battalion in the British Army's 16th Regiment of Foot. With her pen dipped in ink and poised over a fresh page, she just let her thoughts flow out of her and unto the paper

"Dearest journal,

it has been some time, but I must tell you of the most infuriating incident. Barely two weeks ago, Lord Sutton approached me at our house to tell me that he had deep, entirely inappropriate feelings for me."

Slowly the movement of her pen stopped, the ink seeping into the page and spreading into an ugly blot. She could have told Mr Graham or anybody else about this exchange and possibly ruin the friendship he held so dear. When they had met in the forest she had been angry and hurt and he had none the less given her this secret that she could have used to undo him. He'd said that she deserved an explanation. Didn't he deserve one as well? Catherine felt a sudden rush of indignation. Never mind if he deserved one, she had one to give him and by God if he could just saunter up to her and burden her with this infatuation of his then she had the good right to make him listen to her about her feelings on the matter.

She put aside her journal and pulled out a nice sheet of stationery paper. She couldn't find it in her to even bother with the traditional greetings, but dove right into the heart of the matter.

 _Sutton,_

 _I understand that you might not be happy to receive this letter, nevertheless it is a letter that you must read. I admit that you are braver than I as I can only commit my feelings to paper rather than explain them to you personally. I find myself thinking of you often in these past few days and I feel like there are many things left unsaid between us. Your sudden confession has sent me reeling and while I remember that you did not wish to hear my opinion on the matter, I must tell you that it has been quite vexing to be confessed to and then walked out on in this manner. You have thrown my life into disarray and then you simply left for greener pastures. I wish we had known each other better or sooner or under other circumstances. Maybe there is still time for that. I feel like there is a pull between us and I do not know why, as you have never expressed any good opinions of me and I do not understand why I wish to hear you do so now._

Catherine only stopped writing after she had filled both sides of the sheet in that tight small handwriting she used to take down notes or write in the margins. It was a rambling mess of barely veiled annoyance and undignified hurt, featuring the occasional sprinkling of confusion and the even rarer admittance of feelings of a more tender nature. Those were usually quickly backtracked over and covered with more angry accusations.

"Well, his confession wasn't very dignified either.", she grumbled to herself as she folded the sheet after letting the ink dry. Suddenly Catherine remembered that she didn't even know his address. She supposed she could ask her mother about where Colonel Watson would be stationed now; Sutton was sure to turn up there sooner or later, but then somebody else might know that she had written to Sutton. She supposed she could also write down what she knew and leave the rest up to fate and His Majesty's postal service.

A few hours later she found an excuse to head into town and drop off the letter at the post office. After that she miraculously slept easier, but she never received a reply.


	9. Chapter 9

As if she had surrendered all her negative energy with that letter, Catherine returned to her calm and uneventful life. She rather prefered it that way; best to leave the torrid love affairs to plucky heroines in novels and high-born ladies that could afford to dress better than her. Catherine was content to help her mother and practice her embroidery. If she never saw Lord Sutton again it would be too soon. While her own social interactions were still rather limited, she enjoyed watching the recent developments in the life of one Mary Earlwood. As she had suspected, her friend was growing ever closer to the Ashcroft family. Catherine smiled into her teacup as she listened to Mary retell her latest adventures at Thornleigh Abbey.

"However, just as I was about ready to confess to my mistake, that is when the soup arrived and nobody ever found out about the stain. Ellie might have seen it though, she is very perceptive.", Mary concluded her tale, obviously pleased by Catherine's impressed expression. While she poured her friend some more tea for her parched throat, Catherine asked about how Ellie was doing.

"She is just splendid. A bit worried about her debut, the poor dear."

"Well, of course! Your debut is a very important event. Do you remember how you were acting before yours? You were so excited about it all you almost fainted on several occasions!"

"And you nearly drove both your mother and me to drink with your constant worrying.", Mary shot back, smirking at Catherine over the rim of her tea cup.

Catherine chuckled before giving an elegant shrug and taking another sip of her tea. A comfortable silence settled between the two friends.

"So, to business then.", Mary set down her cup and retrieved the purse she kept next to her on the chaise.

"Business?"

"Ellie wanted your opinion on some fabrics for the decorations.", Mary said, while spreading out the colourful patches on the small table between them. Catherine felt warmth rush through her.

"She wants my opinion?"

"Of course she does.", Mary smiled at her warmly. "She also wanted to hear what you have to say about this cardstock she chose."

Over the coming weeks Mary would serve as intermediary between Ellie and the still ostracized Catherine. Cathy really enjoyed helping organise the event, even though she knew it was unlikely that she would ever get see the fruits of her labour. It was just nice to feel included in her friends' lives.

A few days later she returned home from a lengthy walk to a very pleased looking mother and a sealed envelope on the drawing room table. Grabbing her letter opener she cut through the heavy and, more importantly, familiar paper. After a brief read-through of the contents, she looked up and beamed at her mother. She was cordially invited to the debut of Miss Eleanor Ashcroft to be held in a fortnight at Thornleigh Abbey.

The festivities were exactly as she had imagined. Elegant, but understated. Tasteful. Eleanor was flitting from guest to guest, looking absolutely radiant and Mary followed her, shining just as brightly. The guests seemed enchanted and smiled in approval at both of them, gesturing to the decorations and refreshments. While their friends were enjoying their time in the sun, Phoebe and Catherine were standing in the entrance hall, observing all the unfamiliar faces and their fashions. The Ashcroft family was exceedingly well-connected, even after moving to Darlington, which was admittedly not featured on any important social maps.

"Oh Cathy, look who it is."

She stopped her assessment of a lady's intricate lace gloves and followed Phoebe's gaze to the opposite side of the room. Standing there, speaking to Mr Ashcroft, was Lord Sutton, clad in an unfamiliar jacket in his usual blue. Her heart stuttered and seemed to stop. He held himself with the same confidence as during their acquaintance, but unaware of her presence he seemed more relaxed, his movement less sharp. He fit naturally into this environment with all the other elegant lords and ladies. Sutton chuckled at something Ashcroft said and straightened his gloves, before he seemed to feel her gaze on him and turned, finding her eyes across the room with almost worrying precision. His expression seemed to war with itself for a brief moment, but standing so far away she could not precisely pick out what was going on. He excused himself from Ashcroft's presence and crossed the floor towards the two women. Phoebe didn't say anything at his approach, but Catherine felt her step closer as a demonstration of support. Everyone in Darlington knew about Sutton's continued abysmal behaviour towards her during the past few months.

"Miss Ingram, Miss Vale."

Catherine almost didn't hear him and Phoebe politely converse over the blood pounding in her ears and the sudden flood of recollections from that letter she had written. Her vision went slightly fuzzy around the edges, while at the same time she felt too aware about all the small details of her immediate surroundings. The stitching of her gloves pressing into her clenched fingers, the shine of the buttons on his jacket, the darker flecks in his eyes, which she swore hadn't looked golden before.

"Catherine, are you alright?"

"Huh?"

Phoebe softly touched her arm, eyebrows knit together in worry.

"Oh, yes, I am quite alright. I was just…", she trailed off, gesturing weakly. For once she was happy to cling to what her mother called the preservation of her feminine mystique.

"You should sit down."

"No, no, please don't fret, it has passed."

Sutton was watching their exchange with a thin veneer of mild concern. How he managed to look both ready to fetch a fainting couch and annoyingly smug was beyond Catherine.

"Miss Vale, if you are feeling well, might I ask for the next dance? As I recall we did not get the chance to before.", he asked, once Phoebe seemed assured that her friend wasn't going to collapse right then and there.

'We didn't have the chance, because you treated me as though I was something vile you stepped on on your way inside.', Catherine thought to herself, rather uncharitably, as she merely nodded elegantly on the outside. This was a terrible idea and she wondered what he might be up to. Last they talked her presence seemed to cause him considerable distress, now he seemed almost… eager. Was he intending to humiliate her in front of all the guests in the dance line for daring to send that letter and snatch the last word from him? She considered for a moment that any smart woman would refuse, but Catherine had never been able to back down from a challenge, especially not from someone as infuriating as Sutton.

He offered her his arm and she took it before they walked silently towards the dance floor. Phoebe trailed behind them, but Catherine barely registered her presence. Her world had shrunk down to her and Sutton. He seemed to have that effect on her.

As they stood opposite each other in the dance line, Catherine eyed her opponent warily. He seemed much too at ease with the situation, politely smiling at people catching his attention. This was a far cry from the shaken man on her doorstep and even the man in the alcove that she didn't like to dwell on too much, lest she started to enjoy the memory too much.

The musicians struck up a merry tune and the couples began to move. Usually Catherine danced to enjoy herself, maybe share some chit-chat that might have been considered inappropriate outside the dance floor, but now she kept silent and her movements as precise and on point as possible. She would not give him an opportunity to mock her skills. Maybe if she ignored him, her heart would stop beating quite so quickly and her eyes would stop trying to catch his gaze. He hadn't spoken for most of the dance, so the task should have been easy. It was not.

Towards the tail end of the song he finally deigned to talk to her.

"How is your mother? Is she lonely now that Colonel Watson isn't there anymore to keep her company?"

Oh, bravo, what an opening salvo. She felt her face heat up, but kept her tone cool and and expression unimpressed

"My mother is well and I do not care for what you are implying."

The last part had been delivered with perhaps a bit too much of a hiss in her voice, as he smirked at her in triumph.

"We shall not speak of it further, then. What about you, are you...lonely, Miss Vale? Is that why you had to write that enlightening declaration?"

Oh, that was it. Cold fury washed over her. He was unbelievable! She shot him a glare that she hoped conveyed the full extent of her lack of amusement, before abruptly changing the subject. "Mr Graham tells me that you have been away for a while. Did you enjoy the continent? The weather must have been pleasant."

Sutton looked briefly caught off guard, scarred eyebrow twitching into a puzzled and ultimately disappointed expression. He caught himself quickly however and replied smoothly. "Indeed, my aunt has been taking the waters down in Italy and I accompanied her. Have you been to Italy?"

"No, I must sadly admit that I did not have the opportunity.", she replied tersely.

"Ah, of course not, pardon my insensitivity."

He did not sound at all sorry and seemed ready to continue his needling, when the song ended. They bowed and curtsied to each other, as was required. "Thank you for this dance, Lord Sutton, now if you'd excuse me."

She did not await his reply and hurried out of the hall towards the open terrace. Nobody was outside at this time, most prefered the balmy inside to the nipping cold. Catherine barely felt it as her hot temper raged. She wasn't hurt, never that, she was enraged over the helplessness she felt.

"Miss Vale"

Oh what fresh hell was this? Sutton had apparently followed her and joined her at the bannister.

"Lord Sutton, I do not have the patience or the inclination to continue our conversation. Allow me some moments to myself, please." The last part was ground out between clenched teeth, while she turned her body so she could watch the people inside.

Sutton didn't depart, but he also didn't say anything either, instead observing the other dancers as well. The silence between them stretched like molasses, a bit too heavy to be comfortable.

"I do not appreciate you mocking me like this, even if it is merely intended to be in jest.", Catherine finally said, cursing herself for sounding small and defeated.

"What do you expect me to do?", he shot back, "Fall to my knees and kiss the hem of your skirt? Nothing has changed."

Ah, but it had. Everything was more complicated now, tied up in double meanings and hidden intentions. He told her that he was dismissive of her to keep her away, but now he was the one seeking her out. He was still insufferable, but arguably only when out of the earshot of other people. She took her eyes off the windows in front of them to study him. He wasn't meeting her gaze and while his expression looked carefully blank she noted a tense jump in his jawline.

"Well, since you just had to bring it up...Why didn't you reply to my letter?"

"Besides it reading like the ramblings of a madwoman? That was rather off-putting, I might mention.", he said, sounding awfully defensive.

"Oh, spare me. It was the least you deserved after you declared your love for me and then abruptly left."

There, she had said it and she had said it with a considerable amount of tenderness, given that he seemed determined to keep turning this into an argument. Neither of them had ever said the word, even though it had been hanging there all between them all this time. Sutton didn't bite however and seemed to choose to ignore it.

"At least I managed to leave this sorry business with my dignity intact and did not resort to incoherent rambling.", he sniffed.

"Ah yes, we wouldn't want you to lose your dignity, would we? I'd venture that it's the only positive quality of character you have displayed during our acquaintance." He simply smirked at her as though he had somehow won. It took her a moment to realize he had, when she took his bait and abandoned her line of questioning. What an exasperating man. She wanted to tell him as much when she realized that she felt considerably better than when she had exited the house. Where before she had felt helpless to express her frustration under the scrutiny of her peers and betters, she now felt like she could actually use her wit to assert herself.

"There must be something very wrong about us. Why do we enjoy bickering so much?"

"Well, you _are_ exceedingly dull in polite conversation. You think the weather is an acceptable topic rather than any of the many other qualities of the continent you could comment on, for God's sake. At least in your indignity you share some of the appeal of observing a spectacular coach crash."

"Well, Sutton, you are more interesting when you are being honest too. At least now and then you display the semblance of a real personality.", she smiled at him, when he seemed to concede a blow well-landed, displaying more good sportsmanship than before.

During their spat they had turned to watch each other, rather than the dance floor. She was surprised to see that the tension in his jaw hadn't eased, rather he looked like he would start to pace again any second now. He watched her in return, eyes fixedly staring into hers.

"By God, I would very much like to kiss you now."

"You shouldn't" But she really wanted him to.

"No, I shouldn't." But he really wanted to, she could see it in the slant of his shoulders and grip of his hand on the bannister.

For a dizzying second she thought he might actually do it, before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he reopened them the impulse wasn't gone but it seemed to be buried more deeply again. Breaking the connection they turned back to watch the others, as though nothing had happened.

"I would like to write you again, if I may.", Catherine ventured.

"Why?"

"I am rather short of friends at the moment, as you may have noticed. It is becoming quite dull."

He didn't seem to stumble over the fact that she considered him a friend. "Very well. I cannot promise you that I will reply, though, should you become even more incoherent. My charity and my time is limited"

"It wasn't that bad."

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, because you are such a picture of eloquence when discussing your innermost thoughts and feelings."

"I don't see the need to be at my best, when the audience cannot appreciate it."

They continued to watch the dancers, the colors of their dresses and jackets mixing and swirling behind the glass and for the second time Catherine wondered what they might look like to someone that happened to look outside.


	10. Chapter 10

"Mother, there is a letter from Aunt Mary for you.", Catherine called out as she stepped into the cool shade of their house. The sun had been beating down all week, with nary a light breeze to lift the stifling heat. It was just as well that Mother stayed home on days like this, her heart might not be able to take it. She was still young -just recently turned two and twenty - and she herself was hardly able to withstand the heat. Tugging the front of her dress away from her sticky collarbone, Catherine left her mother's letters on the small table in the hallway before climbing the stairs up to her own room. Standing at the foot of the rickety wooden steps she briefly paused and considered. Of course she wanted to know what news their relations had, but she also knew better than to try and open post that wasn't addressed to her. The soft crinkle of paper in her hands reminded her that she also had her own letters to attend to. That thought brought a soft smile to her lips and she resumed her climb. The mysteries of her mother's correspondence were better left alone.

Upstairs she fell into the chair she left by the window, where the closed blinds allowed just a sliver of light to fall across the off-white paper in her hands. Practiced fingers cut away the wax seal and slipped out the sheets within. The first one was a beautiful watercolour of a flower. Catherine traced the soft lines of an African Lily, keeping her finger hovering just over the paper. She didn't want to smudge anything. Like all the others it was neither signed nor labeled. Sutton kept sending her pictures of flowers, ostensibly to test her botanical knowledge. Had Graham never told him that she had said to prefer ladybugs?

She laid the picture to the side unto her bed, making a note to herself to replace the one from his last letter with it as soon as she was done reading.

"Dear Miss Vale, I hope this letter finds you well or rather that it finds you at all. The newspapers have written of terrible downpours in Hertfordshire and I will not be surprised if your small house has been swept away in the torrents."

Ah, so he had written this about three weeks ago. He never dated his letters -maybe so she wouldn't be able to pinpoint just how quickly he responded to her post - but she sometimes managed to find small clues. She made a point of putting a date on all of hers.

"Well done for recognizing the Queen Anne's Lace. I have returned to my estate to take care of some issues regarding the water rights on some of my holdings. Boring work, but it must be done. I have also entertained some of my less than delightful relations. Cousin Richard has apparently made some bad investments in the East and now intends to drag me into the bottomless pit that is his finances. That man has no sense for business."

She could almost see him rolling his eyes at his cousin's antics. Sutton knew that she kept their correspondence private and so took the opportunity to vent whenever something bothered him. She wondered if Graham received similar letters or if Sutton refused to burden him with the less than savory aspects of his life and work. With her, he seemed to talk very freely, maybe because he felt she knew his shortcomings too well anyway. Behind the polite facade he offered his peers he was an acerbic man with a mean streak a mile wide that had little patience for those he considered a waste of his time. They were not dissimilar in that regard.

But through their correspondence she also discovered new sides of him. He worked very hard to be what he wanted to be - educated and artistic - and most of all he laboured hard to make it all seem effortless.

"It is good to hear that you have been expanding your repertoire. I myself relish the challenge of mastering a new piece. There is no greater feeling than finally playing fluently after long hours of practice."

She remembered how well he had played at the Colonel Watson's dinner. Back then she had easily believed that he might just be perfect at everything without ever needing to hone his skills. That was surely the way he acted, with the arrogance of someone who had never failed at anything in his life. Thinking of him glaring at an uncooperative pianoforte was oddly charming.

"In regards to the query in your last letter (...)"

Ah, there it was. She felt her face heat up. He was picking up a thread of conversation that had spanned several letters since his birthday, when he had written her this:

" _Graham commissioned a painting of myself, and asked the artist to place my likeness in a compromising situation. The result is rather unsuitable for public display, though I must admit the painting rather accurately depicts my enviable assets."_

Embarrassed and rather lost for words she had responded as carefully neutral as possible:

" _How did he manage to paint a nude likeness of you without you knowing? Wouldn't you have to pose for such a thing?"_

Now he was answering her question.

"In regards to the query in your last letter about how he did it, I can only say this: An expert artist simply needs to observe a subject closely enough and commit all the relevant details to memory. I could pick up a pencil right now and draw you, simply by recalling you in perfect clarity."

Oh, he could, could he now? She felt her lips tug into an embarrassed smile, before reading the rest of the letter, which contained some rather interesting musings on the current fashions in London.

Afterwards she re-read the whole missive again and checked one of her books on botany, before sitting down to compose her reply. Following the tradition of her first letter to him, she kept the greeting short.

"Sutton, African Lily or Agapanthus. I will admit to having had to look up the Greek. Let me assuage your worries: My house has not been swept away and neither have I. For the last week Hertfordshire has been bone-dry with an almost unbearable glaring sun. If this continues, I might just have to go for a swim one night, scandal be damned."

She continued her letter in the same casual way, offering him her sympathies for the situation with his cousin and making her own observations on the current trends, before writing:

"I wish to remind you that you have never seen me nude and therefore whatever you conjured up in your mind is surely inferior to reality."

She signed the letter and was sure she had won that round. Slipping her reply into a new envelope she stood up to take down the picture frame containing the Queen Anne's Lace. She carefully put the drawing into the slowly expanding folder in her drawer where she kept the rest of his missives, before replacing it with the watercolour. Afterwards she left her room to go about the rest of her days and was soon joined by her mother in the drawing room.

Catherine should have known that even when it came to conversations of a frankly lewd nature, Sutton would insist on getting in the last word, as his next letter would prove:

"Feel free to send me a detailed description so that I might correct my estimate."

Mrs Vale would barely look up from her stitching when she would hear her daughter mutter softly under her breath from across the hall. The young lord must have written again. If they continued their correspondence at this rate, there might be hope for a marriage yet.


	11. Chapter 11

While Catherine's marriage was a vague fanciful dream for lazy winter days, someone else was well on their way to holy matrimony. As Cathy had suspected at the farewell dance, Mr Ashcroft had grown quite fond of Mary. She couldn't count the walks she had taken chaperoning the two with Mary's mother, walking a suitable distance behind the two love birds huddling together against the chilling wind. Once, when she saw Ashcroft help Mary over an iced over puddle she tried to imagine herself in her friend's place and while she could almost see it, it felt off somehow. Even if the Graham scandal hadn't happened, Marcus Ashcroft wouldn't have been for her. She tried to imagine another dark-haired man waiting beyond that shallow water, but the image didn't come to her.

" _Do you ever contemplate the different paths our lives could have taken? All the missed opportunities, the strange turns of fate?"_

" _On occasion, but I find it a rather fruitless exercise. If you are unsatisfied with an area of your life you should apply yourself to better your present, not obsess over the past. Speaking of bettering yourself, how is the painting coming along?"_

Winter changed into spring and chilling winds slowed into gentle breezes. Mary's engagement was formally announced and privately celebrated among their closest friends. One day Mary and Cathy were sitting under the ancient oak on the old village commons. They giggled over the idea of sitting where their mothers had sat when they watched them play on the wide open field around them. How grown up they now felt. One betrothed, the other survivor of two scandals, both with more than twenty years to their name.

After a while their idle conversation fell into a natural lull, as it so often did. Cathy leaned into the trunk behind her and tilted her head towards the green canopy. The sun was caressing her face, tinting her vision with lovely swirls of orange, white and the green-tinted gold she had come to associate with the Sutton in her fancies.

"Are you happy?", Mary's voice sounded light with happiness.

"Of course I am. Are you?", she murmured, reaching blindly for her friend's hand, who squeezed her fingers in response.

"I can't imagine any greater happiness."

" _Miss Vale, either your life has suddenly turned implausibly bucolic or you have started fibbing to tempt me back to Darlington. Your descriptions make it sound as though even London could not compare to the charms of the countryside."_

" _Sutton, I assure you that my life is still not free of difficulty. I still have an estranged brother, no prospects and my mother is not getting any younger. However, spring has indeed been particularly kind to Darlington and I suppose I would not mind to share its beauty with you. If you endeavour to keep your caustic commentary to a minimum."_

Catherine had little time to be sad that Sutton never seemed able to find the time to visit Darlington, when she busy helping the Earlwoods with the preparations for Mary's wedding.

The ceremony itself was achingly beautiful. Not only was Mary well-off enough to afford a fashionable white dress, the weather was almost perfect with an acceptable amount of clouds on an otherwise cerulean blue sky.

During the celebration after the ceremony Mary, Catherine and Phoebe found a small moment to stand apart from the group while others danced and made merry.

"I am so happy for you, Mary", Phoebe clasped their friend's hand and admired the wedding band on her finger. She almost seemed ready to dive into the simple stone set in the gold as she tilted Mary's hand to and fro.

"Calm down Phoebe, you'll get your own ring soon. I suppose you will be the next one down the aisle", Cathy teased from where she stood behind her friend.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Mary winked at her over Phoebe's head.

Cathy almost snorted. "Well, it certainly won't be me!"

"Oh, I have heard some things to the contrary from my mother. She apparently heard from an old friend that a certain young lord seems to be quite taken with a new acquaintance of his. Really, it was quite a shame we couldn't invite Lord Sutton to the wedding. Oh well, I am sure you'll be able to see him on some other occasion."

"Whatever are you up to, Mary?"

"Oh, nothing. As the first one married it is my duty to take care of my little sisters."

Looking at her friend's face, flushed with love and excitement, Catherine knew that there was no point in arguing.


	12. Chapter 12

It wasn't just Mary who seemed determined to further Catherine's interests. With their eldest happily married off and their two younger daughters still rather young, the Earlwoods' took it upon themselves to mend their friends' reputation and increase their social circle. Mother's standing invitation to Mrs Earlwood's sewing circle was gently made mandatory and Catherine was reminded that she was also expected to appear from time to time. These meetings were tense affairs with some of the other ladies barely doing any stitching and mostly glaring at either of the Vale women.

The culmination of the Earlwoods' efforts was when Mrs. and Mister Earlswood took Catherine along on a journey through the country to visit relatives and friends, some of which, by pure chance of course, had unmarried sons, brothers and cousins.

For Catherine it was an almost magical time, seeing what felt like the whole of England pass by her coach window and dancing on a different ball every week. The days between travel and dancing were filled with walks through mansions and gardens, while discussing a variety of subjects with her new acquaintances. Nobody asked roundabout questions about either the Graham scandal or her estranged brother and she was even allowed to entertain at some functions with an aria or two. As said, an almost magical time. Almost. She caught herself missing...something. Well, she was quite aware what or who she was missing. Occasionally she felt like she could catch a glimpse of him when she spun around the dance floor or when the leaves cast a particular shadow on her path. At the beginning she tried to include every possible detail of her day in her letters just to enjoy his biting commentary. She especially made sure to include a brief description of every handsome gentleman she met on her journey because his reactions were usually amusing and informative. She had never learned so much gossip as when Sutton was trying to dissuade her from further acquaintance with Mr Underlee. She didn't think it was possible to spend so much time in ale houses and still be this well-read.

However her frequent moving made it impossible to keep up their regular correspondence and over time it slowed down to a trickle. Soon the only trace of Sutton in her life was in her vivid dreams and corner-of-the-eye visions. She mentioned neither to Harriet, though the younger woman threw her a conspiratorial smile whenever somebody mentioned Lord Sutton in passing conversation. Catherine would have to talk to her about that. People were starting to notice and she couldn't handle another scandal.

"Where are we going now, Mr Earlwood?", Catherine asked, while she helped Harriet sort out some knotted yarn, the coach rattling over well maintained country roads. Mr Earlwood, Mrs Earlwood, Harriet and her had been traveling since dawn and slowly they were running out of books to read and conversation topics to discuss.

"You remember that I am friends with Mister Graham's aunt, Mrs. Edderly? She has recently come down with an illness and I'd like to visit her. She has been bedridden for several weeks now and I am sure she'd appreciate some company.", Mrs. Earlwood answered for her husband who seemed to be napping behind his newspaper.

"Oh dear, whatever did she contract? Are you sure it is wise to visit?"

"Ah, I think it is nothing serious. Edna always had a very dramatic streak.", Mrs Earlwood reached for her own yarn, making sure not to jostle her sleeping husband.

They arrived at Mrs Edderly's house just after lunch and Catherine for one was glad for the brief journey. Mrs. Edderly's house was beautiful, if a little old fashioned. No modern minded woman would match those drapes with that upholstery. Still she supposed that at their hostess' age some eccentricities could be forgiven, especially since the staff seemed to do their best. Fresh flowers filled the rooms with a soft spring perfume and the windows were spotless.

In a darkened room of the house, Mrs. Edderly throned on a seat of soft pillows and warm quilts. The air smelt of even more fresh flowers sent by wellwishers and tastefully arranged by a maid. The lady of the house herself looked reasonably well for someone who had been recently bedridden. She was a short, stout woman with a surprisingly sharp face changed but not ravaged by time. Wispy strands of sandy hair escaped a carefully arranged coiffure to dance over thin, almost invisible eyebrows and Mrs Edderly kept reaching up to tug and play with a curl at her temple.

"Emma, how good to see you!", she cheerfully called, extending her arms towards her guests.

"Edna, I am so glad to see that you seem to be on the mend.", Mrs. Earlwood stepped closer to the chair and gently reached out to take Mrs. Edderly delicate hands. Catherine stayed back a little so she wouldn't intrude on what was clearly a private moment between friends. Mr. Earlwood and Harriet seemed to think the same thing as they all lingered near the door.

"I am, I am, but it was dreadful, I tell you! These old bones… You, however, look still as young and lovely as the day I met you. Mr Earlwood, I am not sure you deserve such a wonderful wife." Mr Earlwood inclined his head.

"I try my best, Mrs. Edderly."

"Oh and Harriet, you have certainly grown into a fine young lady. Step closer child, I was told I am not contagious."

Harriet seemed none too happy to step closer to the elderly lady, but bore it with a surprising amount of grace for one so young. "Mrs. Edderly must seem ancient to her",Catherine thought to herself and wondered what her mother would like at that age. She supposed mother would be the kind of woman to grow thinner rather than run to fat.

"And who is this lovely creature?", exclaimed, smiling at Catherine who was the only one still unremarked upon.

"Ah yes, Edna, may I introduce Catherine Vale. Catherine, this is Edna Edderly neé Graham."

At her introduction Cathy stepped closer and curtsied.

"How do you do, Mrs. Edderly?"

A happy smile broke out across the elderly lady's face. Now Cathy could see the resemblance to Mr. Graham, especially in the shape of the eyes and their brown colour.

"So this is the famous Catherine. Such a lovely girl. Emma, you simply must take her to see Mannerley."

Mrs. Earlwood looked happy to see her old friend approve of Catherine as she said: "Ah, we intended to, but we heard the young Lord Sutton is often absent and didn't wish to impose."

"Oh nonsense, that one is always flitting about after my dear James. I am sure he wouldn't mind you visiting his gallery. Audrey never really does. He is quite a sweet boy under all that bluster."

She fixed Catherine with a warm but firm look, just like she had seen on Mr Graham on the few occasions he had been serious with her.

"You're a young woman, Catherine, you should be surrounded by beauty, not old crones.", the elderly woman pronounced, before the beginning of a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, but Mrs. Edderly, you are not at all old enough to be called a crone!"

Happy to have dispensed her wisdom, sank further under her covers to receive Catherine's and Mrs. Earlwood protests about her age, with Harriet's sounding slightly less sincere. Cheeky girl.

Well, now it was up to Sutton to have the dice fall in his favour. She really had done all she could for the poor boy.


	13. Chapter 13

They stayed at Mrs Edderly's estate that night. While Harriet peacefully slept on her side of the bed, Catherine didn't get a wink of sleep. Instead she stared into the dark above her head and wondered. Would he be there? She tried to imagine meeting Sutton again after all this time, every possible scenario playing out in her mind one after the other after the other until they started to blur into each other.

The morning sun found her still wide awake, counting the hairline cracks in the ceiling.

 _She stands on a swaying floor, her body gently moving with the sound no the feeling of music in the still air. She is unhearing, unseeing, unfeeling, but for the calm movement of her world. She could sleep like this forever._

 _Suddenly a red-hot breath caresses her neck and she shivers in the sudden cold. Desperately she moves closer to the source of the warmth, skin burning where unseen hands touch her cheek, her wrist. It is electrifying and not quite enough, if she could just…_

Catherine woke with a feeling of vertigo, her elbow slipping of the small window ledge of the carriage as her body is jostled.

"Wha…?"

Shaking her head to gain some clarity, she looked around at her companions. Mr and Mrs Earlwood both seemed to have startled out of a light daze as well, as Mrs Earlwood was furtively rubbing her eyes and Mr Earlwood was blinking owlishly at his daughter, who was glued to the window.

"Harriet, darling, you'll dirty the glass:", Mr Earlwood admonished, barely suppressing a yawn.

"Nevermind the glass, father, you must see this! The estate is absolutely beautiful!"

"Oh, are we there already?", Mr Earlwood followed his daughter's advice and looked out the window.

"Quite impressive indeed!"

"I wonder if Lord Sutton is home. What do you think, Catherine?" Cathy was wishing just the opposite, a sentiment she could hardly voice.

"I only hope the man Mrs Edderly sent informed the household of our arrival. I would hate to intrude unannounced.", she said instead, looking out her own window at the looming estate. For the first time on this journey she wished they would just turn around and go back home already.

The Mannerley household staff had been indeed informed of their arrival. As their carriage pulled up in front of the flawless main entrance, a member of staff emerged almost unnaturally fast from the house to greet them to the estate and offer them refreshments.

"Mr and Mrs Earlwood. And this must be Ms Earlwood and Ms Vale.", as the young man greeted them, his eyes lit up in some sort of recognition when they fell on Catherine. She immediately tensed up even further, clenching her clasped fingers. "Mrs Edderly informed us of your arrival. It is my pleasure to welcome you at Mannerley. Please, follow me."

As they moved up the stairs, Catherine threw one last longing look at the carriage and the road beyond. Whatever would she do, if Sutton was there?

They passed the massive front doors and were greeted by maids that offered to take their travel coats and hats. Catherine was just about to end her own suffering and discreetly ask one of them if Lord Sutton was home, when she was preempted by the man, that had initially greeted them. "Unfortunately, Lord Sutton is currently traveling and might not return until tomorrow. Of course, after refreshments, you are welcome to tour the estate and enjoy the collection."

An unidentifiable weight fell from Catherine's shoulders straight to her stomach. She chose not the dwell on it and instead followed the servant.

Compared to Mrs Edderly's charming, but elderly mansion, this was the platonic ideal of an estate. Modern, yet classical, honoring its own history while looking toward the future. The high ceilings and spotless windows did their best to enchant and impress the visitors. The help was perfectly trained, the servant showing them through the rooms housing Sutton's impressive collection with a practiced air. They really were not the first to visit Mannerley while the lord of the estate was absent.

"And as you can see this wing has been recently remodeled to accommodate more of the collection. While the late Lord Marcus Sutton focused his acquisitions on classical Roman statues, the current lord has branched into Renaissance sculptures, such as this delicate piece. Please note the intricate work on the flower wreath on the girl's head." The group obediently directed their eyes at the indicated spot, Harriet even rising on her toes to see better.

Catherine wondered if that was where the artist chose to put most of his efforts because he adored flowers so much or whether he wished to distract from the fact that the young girl was completely nude aside from the wreath and being accosted by a satyr with a… most impressive instrument. "Sutton, you dog.", she thought to herself and suppressed a small snicker. She recalled how he expected her to be shocked when he showed her the explicit work in his friend's gallery, that cruelly amused smirk when he thought he had trapped her in a corner. It had died down quite quickly when she had just stared into his eyes stoically, fighting down the heat in her cheeks

"Oh, I am sorry, Lord Sutton. Are you waiting for me to shriek and blush? I am quite familiar with the female form. Rather more familiar than you, I suspect."

That had raised his heckles! "I assure you, my familiarity is equal to yours" The witty retorts on her tongue had withered away as he had continued to glare at her, those fine lips pressed into a distressingly sweet pout.

Catherine was torn out of her recollection when a maid entered the hall and gently cleared her throat. "I am pleased to announced that Lord Sutton might be able to join us today. If the roads are good and the weather holds he should arrive for tea or dinner at the latest.", she said and excused herself to return to her duties.

"What wonderful news!", exclaimed Mr Earlwood, "there are a number of things I'd like to ask him about!"

"And I am sure he will be happy to answer any inquiries you might have. Now, if you wish, we can move on to the painting gallery", said their guide, with just a hint of patronizing arrogance, he must have contracted from Sutton.

They entered a room full of exquisite paintings and not much else. While the others continued to follow their guide to a hunting scene, Catherine was instantly mesmerized by a awe-inspiring painting of a ship at sea. Taller than herself, the portrayal of a Spanish galleon on a turbulent and unforgiving sea seemed to draw her in. she could almost feel the spray of the looming waves and hear the shouts of sailors punctuated by the clap of closing thunder. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once. She was so entranced, following the shadows of sharks beneath the waters, that she merely waved off the others when they informed her that they would adjourn for refreshments in the tea room.

She does not notice the passage of time, until shadows fall across her. Suddenly she feels like the wave is about to hit and sink the ship and a sudden fear causes her to look away.

That is when she noticed the figure in the doorway, the last rays of the setting sun making his eyes glitter like gold.

Her heart… just stops. The wave hits the deck.


	14. Chapter 14

Sutton looked just as lost as she was. It was an unusual, if humanizing look for him.

He was completely still and even seemed to have forgotten how to blink. Those golden eyes glittered in the rosy afternoon sun like mirror shards.

Catherine wanted to smooth down her hair and dress - with the sun behind her all her imperfections were surely even more visible than usual - or offer a quippy, but polite greeting. Nothing came out. She swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in her mouth and the sound seemed to echo through the gallery.

At that, Sutton visibly flinched and suddenly narrowed his eyes at her.

"Catherine…"

"I…"

He huffed in irritation at their stumbling and straightened the large portfolio under his right arm, along with his entire posture..

"I was just returning this to my study. I'll be just a moment."

Without looking at her, he hurriedly disappeared into the small side door. His absence seemed to return some of the air into the air. Catherine waited for a moment, before she glanced at the door. He hadn't closed it. She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Was that an invitation or would he be back immediately? His presence exerted an insurmountable pull on her. She hadn't seen him in so long, waiting for some sign. What point was there in resisting? Gathering her courage and remaining wits she slipped through the cracked door, quietly pulling it shut behind her.

Immediately her eyes searched for Sutton, finding him in the corner of the room to her left. His head snapped up from where he was glaring down at a stack of folders and he stared at her, his scarred eyebrow crinkling in irritation above those gleaming eyes. They contained a strange heat, that burned through her like a lick of fire. She felt pinned to the spot, weakly feeling for the door handle. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but some sort of tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as he released a small sigh and turned back to the portfolios, releasing her.

She took his turned back as begrudging acceptance of her presence and decided to take the chance to explore the room. This must be the private collection. Unlike the public gallery, this room was much more cluttered, the paintings seemingly arranged more in chronological order than an attractive fashion. Closer to the door the brushstrokes were clumsy, the subjects less refined. Early works, if she had guess. Moving clockwise he seemed to have grasped first how to work with shadows, then how to imbue the subjects with an ever increasing measure of inner life. Left and right of the window overlooking the grounds outside he had placed his own paintings of the scene, perhaps for comparison.

A convenient sight to copy or did the view have some special meaning to him? She walked closer to the glass. Beyond stood an old cherry tree with a delicate white bench beneath it. The private spot was covered in crumpled leaves, perhaps from the past autumn. Clearly neither Sutton nor his staff spent much time on this part of the grounds. When compared to the manicured garden and hedge maze she had been shown on her tour through the estate, the neglect was even more glaring.

She felt, more than heard, Sutton approach her. Tipping her head to the side, she decided to nonchalantly peer at him from under her lashes, just to let him know that she was aware of his skulking and that she was ignoring him for more enticing views, thank you very much.

When they locked eyes, however, he was much closer than she expected and just as handsome as she remembered. He wasn't touching her, but it felt like that time in the shadowed alcove, when he had touched her cheek and something unfamiliar and dangerous had passed between them.

Damn those burning eyes. She couldn't look at him for too long and dropped her gaze to the large table in front of the window, filled with all sort of detritus. Close to her was a closed manilla folder, with edges of sketched- on paper peeking out of it. Since she'd rather indulge her curiosity than look at him again, she started to move her hand to flip it open. A gloved hand interrupted her, holding the folder shut and barring her from moving to the left.

"Why are you here?"

She felt every word, his cool breath ghosting along her neck and left ear. He must be so close…

Suddenly she felt hot and faint. She couldn't answer that question, not with him so close and… and breathing on her, for God's sake. Since the way to the left was still closed off by his arm, she made to move to the right instead, but he caught her arm. It wasn't forceful, but she still spun around like she was performing a dance step.

"Why did you have to come here?"

Catherine blinked in confusion. He looked genuinely pained and this close she felt like she could drown in that pain in his eyes. With his left arm still on the table, their chests were almost touching and their faces just inches apart. It was inevitable, really, she told herself, as she moved that tiny infinity closer and tilted her head to press her lips to his.

She didn't know how to go about it, she had never kissed a man before. There was just so much Sutton everywhere. Was she supposed to do anything else, besides leaving her lips where they were? He wasn't moving. Was he kissing her back? Was that all there was to it? She had half a mind to ask him, when the hand on her arm gently trailed downwards to clasp hers and she felt Sutton shift into her, finally responding to the kiss and making it feel right. Catherine tangled her fingers with his and allowed her eyes to fall close to enjoy the sensation, to relish that he was here with her and kissing her and not being awful and teasing. She made a small noise of protest when he started to move away. On the retreat his teeth gently tugged at her lip and she must have made a startled noise, because he was grinning. Catherine flushed with heat. Not one to deny a challenge, she chased his mouth and kissed him more forcefully than before. She was slightly off-balance, but it didn't matter, because she could lean into Sutton. She wasn't about to let him win this. Rocking back on her heels, they separated with a small, indecent sound. Once his face swam back into focus, looking well-kissed and flushed, she couldn't resist a small grin of triumph. She could give as good as she could take. Sutton looked at her with that amused half smile of his for a moment, before his familiar smug grin returned and Catherine felt a cold shiver down her spine. They were standing as close as before, her skirts were swishing over his boots, but he suddenly felt miles away.

" So _that's_ why you're here", he suggested playfully, while stepping away, "you have come to seduce me. Naughty girl."

She didn't like the leer on his face.

"I suppose we should return to the others. I am sure they worry."

He elegantly offered her his arm and she could do nothing but take it. While they walked through the halls to the tearoom, she tried to put herself back into order. What was going on? Her heart was doing somersaults one minute, now she felt it sink into her stomach. Had she misread… everything?

Outside the door to the tearoom, Sutton conspiratorially leaned closer to her.

"Now try to contain yourself, won't you?"

He reached up and tugged an unruly strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a quick, cool kiss against her temple. She reached for his sleeve, like she wanted to hold unto him. His eyes dropped to her half-outstretched hand and then returned to her face. She saw shame there, she guessed, and a spark of warmth, nevertheless he stepped out of her reach and opened the door, leaving her behind, red-faced and ashamed.


	15. Chapter 15 (fixed)

As they stepped through the door, bright light flooded Catherine's vision. The glare turned Sutton into an unfamiliar shape cut from darkness as he stepped towards the low table where the Earlwoods were having their tea. Catherine followed meekly.

"I believe this young lady belongs with you? I found her in the gallery", as Sutton gestured towards her, she unconsciously hid behind him in shame.

While Mr Earlwood rose to greet their host and shake hands, Mrs Earlwood leaned a bit to the side to look past the men at Catherine. She must have looked in quite a state and her reassuring smile must have come a bit too late as Mrs Earlwood's brow crinkled in worry. The older women furtively patted the pastel couch covering beside her. Catherine stiffly walked over and sat down between Mrs Earlwood and Harriet, taking comfort in the familiar presence of her best friend's family. She suddenly missed her own mother, far away in their little house in Darlington. She wished she could curl up under her bed covers right now, with her mother stroking her hair and humming to her.

As Sutton moved on to welcoming the Earlwood women, Catherine kept her eyes glued to the tabletop and tried not to cry. She didn't even know why she was feeling so upset and strangely this made her even more sad.

A maid with a pot of tea interrupted her thoughts. "Would you like some tea, miss?"

"Ah, yes, thank you…"

With Sutton's arrival in the tea room the maid had brought a fresh pot of green tea and refilled a silver plate with delicate crumpets. "Cathy, you just have to try this!", Harriet almost forced one of the sweet creations on her, gushing over the citrus taste and soft texture.

While she nibbled on it, without really noticing neither taste nor texture, Catherine missed the worried look exchanged between the ladies. She was just thankful that she was not forced to participate in the on-going conversation.

"Your estate is very lovely, Lord Sutton", Harriet said politely, "if I remember correctly you have an interest in architecture. Did you have a hand in designing the new wing?"  
"I consulted with the architect, yes. I'd like to think that I might have made a significant contribution to the overall result", Sutton replied with a certain air of self-satisfaction.  
"It must have been exciting to work so closely with someone like Mr Davenport! I heard he is considered one of the foremost architects in England and that he hasn't accepted new projects in a few years!"

"I was lucky to be able to convince him to make an exception after he designed my sister's and brother-in-law's new summer house four years ago."

"It must be difficult to live in such a big house on your own", chimed in Mrs Earlwood.

"Oh, no, I quite enjoy the freedom to live without supervision, to come and go as a wish. The boredom is the biggest issue to address. Thankfully, I lead a busy life with many responsibilities and distractions to pursue."

Catherine tightened her grip on her tea cup. Distractions indeed. Was that all she was? A pen pal to fill the hours between dinner and the opera? She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from snapping at him. She thought the whole situation couldn't become any more humiliating, when he continued in a tone that seemed strangely pointed: "Eventually I might look for a suitable wife of course, but I am not quite ready to give up the bachelor life"

Catherine felt doused with cold water and she heard her tea cup clatter on it's saucer. Of course she hadn't expected… But she couldn't deny a faint hope, deep down that he might at least consider… Who was he to call her unsuitable, anyway? Oh, she mustn't kid herself, of course she was unsuitable. This was a silly flirtation that might end in an affair at best.

Mrs Earlwood must have had some inkling on what had just happened as she shifted closer to the petrified Catherine. It was a kind gesture, but did little to soothe her pain.

The torturous polite conversation continued, washing over Catherine like so much hot air, unable to engage her. When it was time to return to Mrs Edderly's estate, she barely made it off the sofa to follow the men out of the mansion. Harriet noticed her shaking like a lead and offered her her arm to steady her. Catherine accepted her help gladly and allowed her to lead her outside.

Their carriage was waiting in front of the entrance stairs and every extra second the Earlwoods spent on saying farewell to Sutton felt tortuous.

"It was a pleasure to see you, Mr and Mrs Earlwood. I hope you enjoyed the collection. Miss Harriet, Miss Vale." He nodded at the both of them without really looking at Catherine, before stepping back. Mr Earlwood helped Harriet into the carriage after Mrs Earlwood, while Catherine fidgeted besides the horse. When Mr Earlwood helped her up into the carriage, she changed a quick look over his shoulder towards Sutton. He was looking right back at her and she saw a muscle in his cheek jump in agitation. He looked pained at whatever he saw in her face and about to say something, when she averted her eyes again and sunk into her seat.

She was glad to return into the warm confines of the carriage, finally feeling able to breathe once more. As they began to pull away, she changed another look back. Sutton was already walking back into the mansion. She immediately turned her head around and chided herself.

What was she doing? She should be working on securing a real engagement, as unlikely as it was. This flirtation was a mere distraction for Sutton and a threat to her reputation. Now it had come to its natural conclusion. He would not marry her and she would not become his mistress.


End file.
